


The One With Lydia vs. the JAOMC

by mikkimouse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, BAMF Lydia Martin, F/M, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Minor Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s), OMC is an asshole, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia wasn't sure what she expected when she heard the knock on her front door, but it certainly wasn't Stiles on her front step, shoulders hunched, sweatshirt hood tugged over his head and eyes looking everywhere but at her.</p>
<p>Without a word, she stepped to one side to let him in. He shuffled past, keeping his face turned away. Like he was hiding something. </p>
<p>Lydia didn't need to be a genius to guess what it was.</p>
<p>(Or, Stiles's boyfriend gets physical with him, and not in the fun way. Lydia takes care of it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With Lydia vs. the JAOMC

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many months ago, drunktuesdaze was talking about [Stiles having a Jerk Asshole OMC boyfriend](http://drunktuesdaze.tumblr.com/post/104179713764/coffeeinallcaps) and my brain went "Oh hey, how would Lydia handle that?" Because I love Stiles and Lydia being close friends, and I thought her response would be more subtle, equally effective, and less obviously illegal than some of the others.
> 
> So I wrote this. And then Scydia also happened because I am trash.
> 
> Thank you to [bleep0bleep](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/) for the beta and for helping me unknot the ending of this story, as it languished in WIP hell for about 5 months. She also asked me to keep the working title, so I shall (with a couple of minor modifications). 
> 
> Note: The abuse tagged does not happen on-screen. Stiles tells Lydia about it after the fact.
> 
> As always, please let me know if I've missed any tags.

Lydia wasn't sure what she expected when she heard the knock on her front door, but it certainly wasn't Stiles on her front step, shoulders hunched, sweatshirt hood tugged over his head and eyes looking everywhere but at her. 

Without a word, she stepped to one side to let him in. He shuffled past, keeping his face turned away. Like he was hiding something. 

Lydia didn't need to be a genius to guess what it was. Anger and disgust churned in her stomach, but she didn't let a single iota of it show. She pointed down the hall. "Kitchen. Now."

For once in his damn life, Stiles didn't argue with her. Lydia kind of wanted to scream at him for it. 

She got him into the kitchen and flicked on the lights, didn't miss the way Stiles flinched at the brightness of them before he sat at the table. Briskly, she pulled out two glasses and filled them with water, then slid one over to Stiles. 

"Show me," she demanded.

Stiles sighed, like he was so put upon, but he shoved back his hood and looked her full in the face for the first time, like he was daring her to say anything. 

It was worse than the time she'd come to his room in high school, after he'd been beaten by Gerard. His nose was bloody, possibly broken. Lip split. He'd have at least one black eye, maybe two, judging by the swelling she could already see. And the way he was holding his arm made her think he'd probably had it twisted. 

She threaded her fingers and rested them on the table. There was only one reason Stiles would be here, would come to her instead of Scott or Derek or his father. Lydia took a deep breath and pressed her lips together until she could keep her voice even. "Chad?" 

Stiles lifted one shoulder, whether a shrug or an admission, she couldn't be sure. "You'd think after six years of surviving werewolves and hunters and a fucking demon fox, I could handle one human guy." 

Lydia stood and retrieved a bag of frozen vegetables from the fridge, handed it to him. Stiles accepted it with a half-smile and pressed it to his swollen eye. "Thanks."

How she managed a smile, Lydia wasn't sure, but she did it. She had to stay standing, though. If she sat down, she was going to squeeze her water glass until it broke. 

She leaned against the counter instead. "What happened?" 

Stiles rested his elbow on the table, propping up his head. "Oh, you know. Chad gets it in his head that I'm cheating on him with Scott, I start laughing so hard I think I'm going to break something, I completely miss the right hook coming my way. Just another normal night at the Stilinski household."

Lydia was going to claw out Chad's fucking _eyes_. "I may not be an expert, but it looks like you got hit with more than a right hook." 

Stiles closed his eyes. "Does it even fucking matter? He's a douche. He was always a douche. I guess it just took me getting clocked in the face to believe it. It's over. I told him to go get himself a fucking hotel room and left." 

Lydia swallowed everything she actually _wanted_ to say, because again, there was a reason Stiles had chosen to come to her. 

He'd been so _excited_ about bringing Chad home for spring break, and everyone in the pack had been looking forward to finally meeting the guy Stiles had been talking about nonstop for six months (with the exception of Derek, who'd spent an entire week in his apartment _brooding_ ). 

Of course, by their third day in Beacon Hills, it was abundantly clear Chad was a massive tool, jealous and overly possessive. It had taken every ounce of Lydia's poise to keep from putting her Jimmy Choo stiletto through his temple when he'd gone on a tirade about how men and women couldn't be friends. 

She was glad Stiles had come to the decision to end the relationship himself. She was also _furious_ things had gone this far before he had. 

Under the warm yellow lights and the silence in the kitchen, Stiles deflated. "Look, I just...If I went to Scott, he'd rip his throat out. If I went to Dad, he'd pistol-whip him. If I went to the hospital, Melissa would be there and she'd tell Dad _and_ Scott. If I went to Derek—ugh, my point is, anybody else, and there's going to be violence and restraining orders and nights in jail or possibly _murder charges_ , and I don't...I don't want to deal with it. I just want him gone. So can I stay here until that happens?"

"Of course." And it would happen _very quickly_ if Lydia had anything to say about it. "We'll watch a movie. And I'll order some pizza."

Stiles gave the first genuine smile she'd seen on his face all week. "Thank you, Lydia." 

Lydia pointed down the hallway. "But first, you're going to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit. First aid kit's under the sink."

Stiles chuckled, and then winced, but he stood up and walked down to the hall bathroom, where they'd cleaned up more than one member of the pack over the course of the past several years. Lydia waited until she heard the door click shut before she grabbed her phone and dialed. 

"Lydia?" Derek sounded confused. 

She walked into the living room, further from the bathroom even though she could hear the sink running. "Derek. I need you to do something for me and I need you to not ask any questions about it until you get to my house, okay?" 

"Are you okay?" The confusion was gone, replaced with concern. "Is anyone hurt? What do you need?" 

"I'm fine, I promise. I just need you to pick up two large Hawaiian pizzas from Marco's, along with a meatball sub and a Caesar salad, and bring them to my place. I'll pay you back." She considered for a minute, and added, "Oh, and that blueberry beer Stiles likes. The one with the dog on it." 

"Stiles?" Derek repeated. "Is he with you? What happened? Is Chad there?" 

She didn't miss the way his voice went venomous on Chad's name. Lydia took a deep breath. "What did I tell you about questions? Please, Derek."

For a moment, she heard nothing on the other end but harsh breathing, and then Derek finally said, "I'll be there in half an hour." 

"Thank you," Lydia said, and hung up a half-second before she heard the water in the bathroom shut off. 

A moment later, Stiles appeared in the living room with most of the blood cleaned off his face, and the frozen vegetables attached to his head with a length of gauze. He staggered over to the couch and flopped down on one end, wincing when his back hit the cushions. 

Lydia turned away so he couldn't see how she bit her lips to keep from saying anything. If it was still bad tomorrow morning, she'd call Melissa and have her take a look. 

"What movie do you want to watch?" Lydia asked. 

"Doesn't matter. Something dumb." 

Lydia put Cave Dwellers into the DVD player—she and Stiles were both suckers for MST3K—and settled onto the other end of the couch with one eye on the clock. 

Exactly twenty-nine minutes after she'd hung up the phone, her doorbell rang. 

Lydia sprang up and grabbed her purse, intending to inform Stiles that she would cover the pizza, but he just hunched further into the corner of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. 

That sight, more than anything else, broke her heart, and for the first time she felt a twinge of guilt. 

But no. Stiles wanted Chad gone, and of all of them, Lydia was the best one to ensure that happened with minimal bloodshed.

She strode to the door and opened it, then stepped outside and closed the door as far as she could without the latch catching. 

Derek stood there, balancing two pizzas and a small bag from Marco's in one hand and the requested beer in the other. He frowned at her, and then shot his eyes over to the blue Jeep parked in her driveway. 

"Stiles is inside," Lydia said briskly. "Go eat pizza and watch terrible movies with him. Put the sub and the salad in the fridge; those are for me. And save me one of the beers."

Derek growled. "Lydia. What happened?" 

Lydia dug through her purse, pulled out $50, and set it on top of the pizza. "Chad has officially overstayed his welcome. I am going to cordially invite him to leave Beacon Hills." 

The growl got louder, and Derek's eyes flashed blue. "I'm coming with you." 

" _No_ , you are not." Lydia shook her finger in his face, feeling ridiculously like an elementary school teacher scolding a child. "Tell me, which is more important to you: castrating Chad with your claws, or making sure Stiles is okay?" 

She saw the war on Derek's face, could practically _feel_ the struggle between the desire to take care of a friend versus the desire to utterly destroy the one who'd hurt him. 

Lydia took another step forward and lowered her voice. "He doesn't want anyone to go to jail, he just wants the asshole gone. I can make that happen, but I can't leave Stiles alone. Please."

Derek's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Just...take Scott or Kira with you, okay?"

Lydia pulled her phone and her keys out of her purse. "Oh, don't worry. I've got a plan. Now go. Remind Stiles that he's loved."

Derek jerked a little at her words, but he went inside without any further protest. 

Once again, Lydia waited until she heard the door close completely before she dialed her phone, striding down the front walk to her car. 

"Hello?" 

"Danny!" she said brightly. "I need a favor."

***

Forty-five minutes after she left her house, Lydia was sitting at a booth in the brightly lit diner on the corner of Main and Elm, coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. She _did_ hope Chad wouldn't blow her off; she would truly hate to have to track him down to do this, if only because she was already having trouble remembering the reasons she shouldn't eviscerate him on sight. 

It was almost a relief when the door to the diner opened and Chad walked in. He swaggered over, dripping "frat boy jackass" from every pore. Shaggy blond hair, frayed baseball cap, popped collar on his pastel polo shirt, the beginnings of a beer belly. She'd dealt with a thousand different flavors of him in college, and she'd deal with this one too. 

Chad dropped heavily into the seat across from her. "So, you're the one he went crying to, huh, Red?"

_Don't stab him. You can't claim self-defense_. Lydia plastered a pleasant smile on her face. "Chad. Please check your email." 

He dug his phone out of his pocket and tapped at it, a leering smirk on his face. "You sending me naked pics?" 

"You should find that your return flight to Boston has moved up a few days. Specifically to about four hours from now," Lydia continued. "That should give you just enough time to pack your things, vacate the Stilinski house, and get a cab to San Francisco."

Chad stared dumbly first at his phone, then at her. "What? How did you—Wait, you're kicking me out of Stiles's house?" 

"No, Stiles kicked you out of his house. I'm kicking you out of _town_ ," Lydia corrected. "You are going to leave and you are never going to set foot back in Beacon Hills. You are also never going to so much as glance at Stiles again. If you do either of those things, the consequences will be painful, terrifying, and _extremely_ long-lasting."

Chad spluttered. "You can't do that!" 

Lydia smiled as serenely as she could manage. "Oh, yes, I can. In fact, I just did." She glanced at her phone. "It appears I was mistaken. You have three and a half hours to get to San Francisco before you miss your flight."

Chad glared at her and crossed his arms, like a petulant child. "And what if I don't go?" 

"I thought you might say that, despite the _obvious_ idiocy of sticking around a town where you just assaulted the sheriff's beloved only child." Lydia sighed and thumbed her phone on, then turned it so Chad could see the picture she had pulled up. 

Oh, it was so worth it for the way his face went utterly ashen. 

"I have a very close friend who has discovered pretty much _all_ of the pictures from this clearly ill-advised trip to Tijuana," Lydia said conversationally. "If you don't wish for said pictures to be forwarded to, say, your boss, your school, your various social networks, and your father's campaign staff, then you _will_ do as I have requested." She swiped to the right. "Oh, it would be a shame for that one to show up a month before his re-election, wouldn't it?" 

Chad gaped like a fish. "Bitch," he finally said. 

Lydia took a sip of her coffee and raised her eyebrow. "Indeed. I _am_ the head bitch in this town, and don't you dare forget it. Now. You should leave, before you make me _really_ angry."

She'd had some vague hope that this might be fixed without violence, but considering what he'd done to Stiles, Lydia wasn't terribly surprised when Chad raised a hand and lunged at her. 

Fortunately, Scott was there to grab Chad's wrist before he could even get halfway across the table. He stood next to the booth, a perfectly amiable smile on his face. "Lydia. Chad. Fancy seeing you here." 

"Scott." Lydia returned his smile. "So glad you could join us. Perfect timing, as always." 

Chad tried to yank his hand away, and seemed very disconcerted that he couldn't. "What the hell is going on?" 

"I believe Lydia was just outlining why you need to leave Beacon Hills in the next thirty minutes," Scott said, eyes flashing red and his voice a little thick around his fangs. "Why don't you go ahead and do that?"

He let Chad go, and Chad scrambled out of the booth and then stayed standing there for a moment, like he wanted to get away from them as fast as he could, but didn't want to appear like he was running away. "What the...what the fuck is _wrong_ with you people?" 

"We're very protective of our friends." Lydia stuck her phone back in her purse and pulled out a compact and lipstick for a touch-up. "Oh, and Chad?" 

"What?" he asked warily. 

She gave him her full attention once more. "If you ever do try to come back here or contact Stiles, I think you'll find that Beacon Hills has a _very_ violent mountain lion population. It's on record everywhere. I would so _hate_ for you to be a victim, wouldn't you?"

Scott growled, low enough that no one else could hear but Chad. 

He was out the front door before Lydia had turned fully back to her compact. 

Scott settled in the seat Chad had just vacated. "You think he's actually going to leave?" 

Lydia dabbed a bit of red on her lips and pressed them together to smooth the color in. "Kira and Jordan are at the house. Our friendly deputies are _more_ than happy to ensure he vacates the premises, since he's officially trespassing. They'll let us know when he leaves." She grabbed a menu and slid it to Scott. "Want a drink while we wait?"

***

The text from Kira came half an hour after Chad had left the diner. He'd practically flown out of the Stilinski house with a suitcase and jumped into a cab that had gone right for the highway. 

Even so, Scott insisted on following Lydia home and walking her to the door. The whole time, he had a pensive look on his face, like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure what. 

"Well?" she pushed, when she couldn't take the silence anymore. 

Once upon a time, Scott probably would have responded with a guileless look. Now, he just shrugged. "I don't know. It just feels like...like I shouldn't leave you guys alone. Like we should all be with pack." 

Lydia opened the door and gestured inside. "Be my guest."

Her house was darker than she'd expected, with only the flickering bluish light of the television illuminating the rooms. She peeked into the living room to check on Stiles, and saw that he and Derek were tucked up together on the couch, sound asleep, Derek frowning and curled around Stiles like he could protect him that way. 

Lydia was torn between smiling at the sight and wanting to shout _Fucking finally, you emotionally constipated assholes_.

She put a hand on Scott's shoulder to keep him from going on into the living room, held a finger up to her lips and then pointed at the couch. His eyes widened briefly, and then the stupidest, happiest smile Lydia had ever seen spread across his face. He even did a little fist pump. 

Lydia pressed her lips together to keep from laughing and ushered Scott into the kitchen. "I think we can let them stay there for the evening, don't you?" 

"You don't mind?" Scott wasn't bothering to hide his grin, but he did keep his voice low. "You don't know what they'll get up to on the couch."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Please. Stiles knows what I'll do to him if they get stains on my couch. Besides," she patted Scott's cheek, "I can't smell it the way you can." 

Scott's eyes went comically wide in horror, and he choked. "Oh God, don't remind me." 

Lydia didn't bother to cover up her smile that time. "Still feel the need to stick around?" 

Scott shuffled his feet. "Honestly? Yeah, I do. I mean, I know they're okay, I can _see_ Stiles is okay, and you're obviously okay, but..." He trailed off and frowned into the corner of the kitchen, before turning back to Lydia with gleaming red eyes. "I don't want to leave my pack." 

There was something about the soft earnestness in his voice, the serious set of his face, that made Lydia look twice at him, made her remember him as a sweetly clumsy sophomore from so very long ago. 

He'd changed since then. They all had, but the way Scott had changed had Lydia looking twice at him more and more often. 

The thought made her stomach flutter.

"Well, I can't offer you my couch, but I do have a few spare bedrooms." Lydia nodded her head toward the stairs. "And I also have a meatball sub and a salad I'd be happy to share." 

Scott grinned. "That sounds great. And...thanks, Lydia." 

Lydia opened the fridge and pulled out the food. "For sharing my salad?"

"For taking care of Stiles," Scott said quietly. "For getting Chad out of town quickly and quietly. You...you're kind of like an Alpha in your own way, you know?" 

Lydia snorted. "Hardly." 

"You are," he insisted. "You always have been."

Her cheeks heated, and Lydia pressed her lips together, fighting a smile at the praise. "It doesn't feel like it," she admitted.

Scott met her eyes solemnly. "It never does."

They ate in silence, picking over the salad and the sandwich. The air felt too heavy to joke, and now that everything was taken care of, exhaustion started to settle in. 

After the third time Lydia yawned mid-bite, Scott gathered up the salad box and sandwich wrapper to throw away. "Come on, you should get to bed. Just point me in the direction of the spare bedroom." 

Lydia worried at her lower lip, considered putting Scott in the guest room beside hers, but… "Why don't you just share my bed?" 

Scott stopped mid-movement, hands over the trashcan, eyes huge. Lydia covered her mouth to smother a laugh at the sight. 

"I...you...your bed?" he repeated.

She pushed herself out of the kitchen chair and walked over to him, close enough that he could hear her heartbeat, if he wanted to. "Just to sleep," she clarified. "For tonight, anyway. Other nights...we can see?" 

Scott still stared at her like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, long enough that Lydia felt the faintest bit of doubt creep in. 

He threw the trash away and turned to look at her full on. "Lydia, I don't...I don't do just sex." 

She nodded. "That's not what this would be," she said quietly, and it felt like saying too much. 

"Oh." Scott swallowed. "In that case, yeah. I'd like that." He took her hand and beamed. "I'd like that a lot."

Lydia let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and laughed. Giddy. She was giddy. That hadn't happened in a long time.

She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. "In that case, shall we go to bed?" 

Scott's answering smile was blinding. "Yeah, that sounds good."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mad_madam_m)!


End file.
